Harder to look for the glimmers of light and good in a person - to love. Much easier to close your eyes - and hate.

My Sin.


The Balance.

Recent weeks have been, carefully, uneventful. An impasse, or rather, a mutually sought truce. The mood, for a very brief few days, was even light-hearted. She returned my smiles and even sought my company. Then, came the shift in the delicate balance. Again.

The others had met her before and engaged her in most of the small talk, while I ate, listened and watched. People are used to me being quiet in my little corner. But this time, it felt different. (As it has been for quite a while.) They did not tread warily in my presence; they were comfortable - because I was too; no more the Bad Guy. One of them kept smiling at me in a familiar way, and touched me as she talked. Then, they turned to me and asked about the tan and gushed about the exciting 'life' I must have. (Eh?) Though I did not look at her, I felt her buoyant mood change as she retreated in an instant. With anyone else (and a long time ago, with me), she would have joined in, sometimes, even out-performing the others, for the glory of the centrepiece. I silently wished the others would move on to something else - I could not bear the weight of the dead eyes on me.

(A shift in the balance.)

Then, losing my temper later that afternoon with her. The snide undertone in the 'compliment' - undisguised envy - to get me to do something. I reacted, reflexively - not reflectively.

"I hate her. I hate her not. I hate her. I hate her not. I hate her. I WANT to hate her." The monologue clicked in turns behind dead eyes. Not so opaque, after all. I saw. And I brooded. I should have bit my tongue.

(Lurch.)

The next day, an opportunity stood before me. It was a simple setting, repeated too frequently to be considered out of the ordinary. But THERE it was, and the air felt different. (Do it now - or not. And if not, do not regret your choice. I need - Courage.)

I managed to swallow my pride and broached the issue in a tactful and conciliatory manner, so that it was face-saving for both of us. And sincerely done - I had to; and I was. The darkness lifted for the moment - faint flickers of light in her eyes.

(Tilt.)


Fire is a good servant but bad master.

Our first instinct when threatened is to react in the offensive. Hit the iron while it is hot. Strike down your adversary before he can catch his breath and come back at you. Maintain your upper hand, always. Other people react by retreating; defensive. Do not be soft. Do not be a COWARD. Do not fear. You need - Courage. Now, I wonder if all that is... wrong. Maybe. I do not know... yet.

"It would have been so easy to let anger sweep me into the same maelstrom of fear and hatred that she is in."

So much easier.

SF: "You were telling me about how she is warming up to you again because you are treating her like anyone else, rather than being hostile. That led to my observation that you have the upper hand since the tone of the relationship is being set by you. Being willing to take charge of the tone is a form of power you have, which she does not have. But once you start being aware that you can influence the mood and tone of a given situation or relationship, it then behooves you to take some responsibility for moods of the social situations you get involved in. It is a kind of freedom, because you are not doomed to dumbly accept the mood / tone in any given situation, but are able to contribute or change it."

It was like this with the other one (who has since left - consumed by her own fear), and with her too. Circling each other warily; each unwilling to give in. To be the first to open up was unthinkable - to be at the mercy of the other. I have tried them all: passive-aggressive; offensive; defensive. But mostly, just an uncomfortable truce.

"Aikido is believed to be one of the most spiritual of the martial arts. Morihei Uyshiba developed the art in the early 1900's after experiencing a moment of spiritual enlightenment. The physical side of Aikido involves throwing, joint manipulation and special weaponry training. Aikido does not focus on striking of one's opponent, but on using their energy to gain control. Aikido places its greatest emphasis on the motion and dynamics of movement and the control of one's Ki (energy or spirt within the body). Aikido itself has many different styles and many of those styles consider themselves to be a non-competitive art."
~ The Martial Arts Institute

Power, not as we commonly know it - brute strength and speed. But one that is more contemplative, and is capable of, for want of a better word, submission - something to do with humility.

To rule, you must - first - serve.

To receive, you must - first - give.

To love, you must - first - lose.

So, so, so much harder.

Courage and Fear. Without Fear, will you know true Courage?

Light and Dark. Without the Dark, will you know what is the Light?


Let's play poker.

I have been told that it is hard to read my face; that, or people tell me I look too grim. At my first job, a Psychology Medicine professor asked the ex-boss if I would like an appointment to see him. "How come she NEVER smiles / laughs? If she has problems, she can see me." He was disturbed by my mirthless face at meetings when everyone else would be laughing (stupid jokes - most of these political creatures laughed to give face) or emoting (but, but, I thought it was not appropriate for the minute-taker to partake of the Gods' revelries).

I still have it. It is easy to stop people from looking past my face; easy to shut the door in their face; easy to shut myself in, too.


Let me in.

Dead eyes. Her doors are closed to me. (But, not just to me. To many of the others too.)

But doors can be opened. I discovered this by accident. It started with willing myself to look at people differently, and choosing to seek the light in them. Opening the eyes, on various levels. Letting down my defences - trust; do not fear; believe. Everything looks different - sharper; clearer; subtleties in contours and colours. And I can see... glimmers of light in their faces and eyes. Not quite dead.

Somewhere in there, they started to open their doors for me, too.

SF: "You are dangerous." (sic)

Hmmm.


My Sin.

"Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand."
~ Lady Macbeth, Macbeth. (Act 5, Scene 1, 52-54)

During those dark months, groping in the dark and looking for the 'lost' pieces, and realising it was inside me all along, I ripped myself apart. I had so many questions, and was often frustrated and fearful when the answers eluded me. Sometimes, there did not even seem to be answers at all. And sometimes, the answers came - many, and fast. Infused by the knowledge, I fancied in my pride and folly that I would 'teach' others. She was an easy target, though not willing. I picked at her happy shiny skin until she saw and recoiled in horror from the raw flesh. But she did not understand - and could not; no capacity, yet. (Do not judge.) It is simply not her time, yet.

Instead, there was Envy - Fear - Anger. So much Anger. Once upon a time, she knew only Happiness - the shiny type. (Ignorance is bliss.) She fears me, still.

I. Should. Not. Have. Judged.

Regret. (Ignorance was bliss - hers.)

Yes, I am - dangerous.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My Sin. Revisited on me - as she now judges me, relentlessly. (Though I suspect it has as much to do with the newfound faith.)

My Sin. Revisted on me many times over. Her friends and family look at me now with so much loathing. And some with FEAR. In the early days, one of them, who is also of the faith, physically recoiled from me in horror, as if I was the Devil's spawn.

Mirrors - looking back at me.

My Sin. My Lesson to Learn.


Ah.

"The vague shapes and voices in the darkness - understanding a little more each day."

So, so many words. Holding on to them. Laying out the pieces. Fitting them into their places. Each too precious to be lost. He points. Illumination. I turn. And I see.

This One is 'dangerous'.

What if this is not a rabbit hole? What if this is a mirror too? (But, not a broken one.) Infinity. If not, illusions? With mirrors, you will never, can never, stop falling. And so, 'dangerous'.

I think the words are finally done with me. Exhausted, I am. Sleep, I shall.